A PROJECT FOR A THEATRICAL PRESENTATION OF 


he, 


THE DIVINE COMEDY 


OF DANTE ALIGHIERI 


By 


NORMAN -BEL GEDDES 











dee 





A PROJECT FOR A THEATRICAL PRESENTATION OF 


The Divine Comedy 


OF DANTE ALIGHIERI 


By NORMAN-BEL GEDDES 


The Foreword by 
MAX REINHARDT 


The Photography by 
FRANCIS BRUGUIERE 


MCMXXIV 


THEATRE ARTS, INc. 
NEW YORK 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 


This book, an incomplete sketch of the idea and serving 
only as a resume of the work as it has progressed to date, 
is written and published only through the interest and the 
insistence of Edith J. R. Isaacs and with the cooperation 
of some of my pupils: Francesca Gayne, Levio Smilari, 
Honor Leeming, Mordecai Gorelick, Herbert Radus, Alida 
Schwab, Frederick Jones, 3rd. 


Copyright, 1924 
THEATRE ARTS, INC. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


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By Max Reinhardt 
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FOREWORD 


ORMAN-BEL GEDDES has those qualities which I most 
N cherish in Americans, the inborn power, the natural pride, 
the childish delight essential to begin everything at the begin- 
ning, to discover the world anew, and with clear comprehension 
to establish himself practically in it. He is a master builder in 
the widest sense of the word. He builds castles in the air but he 
lays their foundations solidly in the ground. He draughts the 
plan, he places the bricks, and himself mixes the mortar. He 
is at once a visionary and an organizer. His love for the theatre 
is fortunate, it is sensuous and fruitful. In the middle ages he 
would have built cathedrals and made of them the cradle of our 
theatre. : 

The multiformed, many-headed, enigmatical entity of the 
theatre is at bottom incalculable. Begotten by the immortal 
playfulness of the children of men, it may be conquered only in 
the spirit of play. It eludes the academic wisdom of yesterday, 
all the fashionable rules of today, winged with the primitive 
passion to reveal itself to the utmost and to transform its inmost 
being, in magical haste to live a thousand lives, to suffer a thou- 
sand deaths, and gather timeless destinies into hours. It can be 
degtaded into a house of joy, exalted into a house of God. Itisa 
world that man has created with divine energy in hisown image. 
It revolves about our earth, receiving from it light and life, but 
turning at the same time on its own axis and describing its own 


[5] 


path in the will of its maker like a constellation. The natural 
dweller in the world of the theatre is and always will be the 
player, no matter if he also is poet, musician, director, painter or 
architect. 

Geddes is a native of this world. He knows that three things 
ate necessary to the living theatre: actors, collaborators, onlookers. 
With voluntary humility he bows before this trinity. Without 
losing himself he has the most perfect understanding, the most 
ardent devotion, the most sensitive adaptability to the work of 
others. He transforms and reveals himself simultaneously. He 
loves his neighbor in art as himself. 

Blessed by sun and rain he will mature as the strongest man 
in the theatre of this time. 


Max REINHARDT. 


November 23, 1923 


[6 ] 


A PROJECT FOR THE DIVINE COMEDY 


that I took up the subject of The Divine Comedy. My last 

production had been the revival of Erminie. Some months 
had elapsed without anything being offered to me except similar 
revivals. I was not in a position to refuse, having neither fame 
nor fortune to lean back upon, nor was I inclined to accept, for 
attistic reasons. If I had not done Erminie, either The Merry Widow 
ot The Chocolate Soldier would have been very enjoyable. But I 
wanted to avoid getting into a rut, and the natute of these three 
was too similar. Not only managers but people in general have a 
way of cataloging things, including the work of an artist. An 
actor who acquires a reputation by playing a certain part will have 
a hard time convincing a manager that he can play a totally dif- 
ferent part equally well. Wishing to avoid a similar difficulty, I 
refused to consider another musical comedy until I had done a 
play. Eventually I won out. One morning a telegram came from 
Mr. Winthrop Ames inquiring if I would be interested in doing 
The Truth About Blayds. But that wasa year after Erminie. 

At about the ninth or tenth month the strain of waiting in 
idleness had become intense. My imagination worked both for 
better and for worse. All through my life there have been times 
of great discouragement. They are a natural event to anyone work- 
ing in unknown quantities and trying to create conditions which 
do not exist. I realized this at the time, but not quite so clearly 
as 1do now. For hours I would sit at my desk and make every 


tee} 


T WAS AT THE period in my life when I was most discouraged 


effort to work at something, anything. Concentration was 
impossible and it seemed to be the material things about me that 
were distracting, so I gradually eliminated them. Eventually my 
table faced a bare wall, and for weeks I looked at nothing else. 
The bareness of the wall and of my mind had something in 
common. Bareness did not indicate emptiness. The wall and I 
had been clearing for action. 

As I looked into it, day or night, a vague palpitation as of 
some sort of life was there. I could see it. There would have been 
no gain in asking any one else if he could see it. I was perfectly 
awate that it was in my imagination, but in my imagination it 
was real. It was as clear to me as any object in front of me now. 
The wall pulsated just as surely as my own body did. I touched it 
with my hand and could feel nothing, but I could see it. The 
whole thing seemed absurd and fascinated me the more because 
of its absurdity. I must have stared at that one place for an hour 
without a break, time after time. The spot would glow as a coal 
that is breathed upon. The harder I looked the hotter it would 
burn. Gradually it took on the form of light focussed through a 
glass and burning through from the other side. It was weitd the 
way this illusion came back day after day. Its intensity would 
increase until suddenly it would reverse itself optically, as when 
we look directly at the sun and it turns black. One night, the 
whole form was turning slowly round and round converging 
inwatd. The room and the wall became unbearable. Another night 
the rhythm reached a tempo, as aboard a railway train, when it 
seemed that it was motionless and I was whirling in the opposite 
direction. I was being drawn toward that burning hole in the 


cee 


wall, all the time, turning round and round, like a corkscrew. My 
body grew hotter and hotter. I rose to my feet, to throw the 
illusion off, and reeled dizzily into the next room and across it 
into a bookcase. I grabbed a book without reading the title. It 
made no difference what it was. I opened it anywhere and read 
this passage over and over before it meant anything to me: 


“As flowerets, bent and closed by the chill of night, after the sun 
shines on them, straighten themselves all open on the stem, so I became 
with my weak virtue. And such good daring hastened to my heart, that 
I began like one enfranchised.” 


Sitting down, I looked for the title of the book. It was the 
first volume of Norton’s Translation of Dante's Divine Comedy. 

Before the night was over I had read The Divine Comedy from 
beginning toend. The next day I was reconciling it with the sun 
spot on the bare wall. From that day to this, I have devoted to 
a dramatic visualization of the poem all the time I could, which 
amounts to about a third of my working hours and aggregates — 
approximately twelve months. The work has reached the half- 
way point. With another year’s work it will be ready for pro- 
duction. The general visualization and outline are established. 
The adaptation in writing is about half done. The stage is de- 
signed, planned, and a model made of it, to test its dramatic prac- 
ticability. 

My original intent was to dramatize the subject in as nearly 
itsown form as possible although I realized that the localisms, po- 
litical and personal, would have tobe omitted. Any form of copy, 
imitation or translation, is futile as far as a truthful transcription 
in another art is concerned, and an artist wastes his time attempt- 


Lee] 


ing it. In undertaking to present The Divine Comedy in the form 
of the theatre I have made no attempt to be literal. I have tried 
to find and to hold the essence of Dante’s spirit in its broad sense. 
It is this universal quality that has brought The Divine Comedy 
through the ages and it is this quality that has inspired me. I 
had the disadvantage of: not being able to read Dante in the 
otiginal. To offset this as best I could I have worked continuously 
with translations by Norton, Longfellow, Tozer, Anderson and 
Johnson. 

I began by using the Norton copy as a working script. My 
notations, eliminations and reatrangements were made in the 
margins. I constructed a general outline by going through the 
entire work and determining what incidents would be used, 
since, obviously, the major part of the original work would have 
to be eliminated for presentation in the time of a theatrical per- 
formance. I considered doing it in two or three performances, 
treating the Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise separately but this 
would have defeated its own ends. The only thing gained by 
the prolonged version would have been a nearer approximation 
of the literary form. The effect of the production would be 
heightened with the continuity unbroken. After completing a 
preliminary visualization of the work as a whole I began detailed 
study of the Inferno. This I determined upon as the first act or 
first half of the performance. 

The process of writing was slow and resulted, with the no- 
tations and eliminations, in filling the margins of the entire vol- 
ume so that further notes and elaborations were impossible. 
Blank pages were added but as transpositions of passages and 


[ 10 } 


ideas from one part to another were made, this too became un- 
wieldy. Moreover to indicate the handling of the various the- 
atrical mediums together it became necessary to evolve a more 
flexible writing method. So I borrowed from the method used 
by the composer in orchestration and divided my various ele- 
ments into groups mote or less as the strings, brass, wood winds 
and drums are divided in the orchestra. My group divisions 
were: first, the spoken word; second, lighting; third, the move- 
ment of the principals; then the movement of the subordinates 
or chorus; then the voices of the principals; followed by the 
voices of the subordinates; and lastly, music. These major group- 
ings are sub-divided into minor groups which in turn divide 
into separate instruments of expression. The groups as my score 
now shows them are listed from the top to the bottom of a 
page. Each page represents one minute’s time and is divided 
into quarters so that everything is considered in units of 
every fifteen seconds throughout the performance. By reading 
a page from left to right the synchronization of each element 
with every other element at any specific moment 1s clearly 
defined. 

All the various parts of the work, rewriting the script 
and making the drawings and models, have been carried on 
simultaneously. This has resulted in an organic development 
of the idea in its broadest sense as well as in detail. The pet- 
spective drawings have been restricted almost entirely to the 
Inferno episodes. They have developed from small sketches two 
or three inches in diameter to an intermediate size and finally to 
twenty-four by twenty inches. Some of these drawings, in red 


[ 11 } 


chalk, have been made five or six times each, and all drawings 
published up to this time are from this set which ate only ad- 
vance studies for the final set now in process. This set of draw- 
ings will illustrate an incident from every alternate minute 
throughout the performance. None of this final set has been 
either exhibited or published, nor will they be until the set is 
complete. 

The construction drawings have developed in a similar way. 
The stage was sketched out in plan to an eighth inch scale and 
developed to the half inch scale of the working drawings. The 
elevations were developed not from the plans but were projected 
from the perspectives. The only variations from the early draw- 
ings have been with regard to the upper tower heights, which 
have been reduced to permit of their erection indoors. The 
plans of the stage, upon which the entire production takes place, 
have been carried on only far enough to construct the model, 
which is to the scale of one half inch to one foot, ot one twenty- 
fourth full size. The model is inclusive of all details which 
had been considered up to the time of its construction, includ- 
ing all means of entrance and exit. The stage had to be planned 
from the standpoint of the Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise. Its 
general shape is circular. The audience sits in a half citcle facing 
it as it faced the orchestra in a Greek Theatre. 

This circular stage, which is a hundred and thirty-five feet in 
its width and a hundred and sixty-five feet on its longitudinal 
axis, is composed entirely of steps. Its center is a pit, the slope of 
which rises on the far side to a height of fifty feet. On the near 
side the slope terminates in a ledge, only one-fourth as high, 


[12 ] 


which steps down toward the audience in a series of terraces un- 
til it reaches the level of the bottom of the pit, where it termi- 
nates in a valley running half way around the circle. Separating 
this valley from the audience is a wall seven feet high. This wall 
is solid on the audience’s side and composed of swinging doots 
on the valley side. It is wide enough to permit two people to pass 
inside it or on itstop. It runs half way around the stage connecting 
at either end with a tower which rises from the slope in a series 
of terraces made up of steps. Another pair of these towers, rising 
from the rear slope, reach a height of seventy-five feet. 

The stage is designed for this production alone. It could of 
course be used for other drama on a similar scale, but it has been 
designed with no other production in mind. I set out to design 
a stage that would fulfill the necessary dramatic requirements of 
The Divine Comedy without the additional use of scenery. The 
structure grew out of repeated readings of Dante's poem. Influ- 
enced, without a doubt, by the mental impressions immediately 
preceding my starting the work, the form that I could not for- 
get was the never ceasing movement round and round. No mat- 
ter where I started to read, Dante seemed always to be traveling 
and writing that way himself. It was not unlike a fly entering 
a funnel through the neck. When he emerges into the body he 
finds the sides falling away in all directions. The farther in the 
fly goes the farther and faster the walls grow apart. This, in a 
less definite way, is what I felt in studying The Divine Comedy. 
This is the feeling that I want to give the audience. So the stage 
is designed on a funnel form, and so is my dramatization. The 
action begins slowly and in parallel lines. Gradually the tempo 


[ 13 ] 


increases and the straight lines are bent. Eventually the speed 
becomes unfollowable. The angles have long since vanished. 
The whole unit spins round and round. 

The stage may be erected and the performance performed in 
or out of doors. The indoors location would have to be some 
large structure such as Madison Square Garden, the Chicago 
Coliseum, the London Olympia, or a large armory. The con- 
struction could be either permanent or portable. In either case 
the main frame should be of steel. In a portable structure the 
remainder would be of wood. No scenery is used except those 
pieces carried in by actors during the course of their performance, 
and these are classified as costume. 

Under that portion of the stage previously spoken of as the 
slope, which is its entire rear portion, all of the space is utilized. 
Each of the four towers contain wide stairways which rise from 
the ground, or bottom of the pit level, to the top, with floors 
every ten feet above the ground. A considerable amount of 
space is taken up by dressing rooms, occupying four floors and 
connecting the under structure of the tall and short towets on 
each side. The men’s rooms are on one side and the women’s on 
the other. Five assembling rooms, each with a capacity of two 
hundred people are located at different positions connecting 
directly with the entrances to the stage. Large rooms for the 
stotage of properties and costumes when not in use adjoin the 
assembling rooms to save the actors carrying them to theit 
dressing rooms. 

The largest part of the area is taken up by three vibrating 
chambets and their supplementary rooms. These vibrating 


[14] 


chambers are for the purpose of multiplying the sound waves 
and magnifying them to a desired intensity prior to their release 
through one or all of nine tubes. A member of the orchestra 
controls the shutters by which he diminishes or silences the 
sound waves which must pass through to reach the audience. 
One tube terminates at the top of each tower; others at the bot- 
tom of the pit, below the seats at either side and the rear of the 
auditorium,and directly overhead in the center of the auditorium. 
The three supplementary rooms adjacent to each vibrating cham- 
ber are where the sounds are created. A different set of instru- 
ments or people may be in these rooms and the sounds produced 
may be released independently or in unison. They ate released by 
a series of pivoted panels into the vibrating chamber where they 
are reflected about until multiplied into a series of echoes, and at 
the proper moment are projected to any of the nine localities of 
the stage or auditorium. | 
All sound other than the spoken word comes under the head- 
ing of music. Since the music is of major importance in the pro- 
duction, running continuouslythroughout the entire performance 
except fora certain few moments, and since it differs from what 
is ordinarily called music, it may be as well to give, in passing, a 
few hints of what is intended. It must not only coordinate ex- 
actly in rhythm and color with the dramatization, but it must be 
free from any conspicuousness in itself. It must be an organic 
part of the whole production, as inseparable as the lighting. The 
most radical treatment is necessary if it is to express what I feel 
with regard to it. Ido not care whether it is considered beautiful 
or not so long as it expresses what it should in sound in relation 


[15 J 


to the idea as a whole. It must be restrained. There must be no 
blatant bursts of anything that resembles earthly music, for here 
isadramaof unearthly emotions. Ido not want to heara trumpet, 
a violin, a flute, a drum, as such. Something must be wotked out 
so that we do not recognize an instrument but feel a vibration 
that reaches a din, that reaches a tone, exquisite and terrible, but 
above all not common. No one is ordinarily less concerned than 
[about “new ideas.” The expression has neither merit nor interest 
for me. It is not the newness but the eternalness of a thing that 
attracts me toward it. And so it is here. Surely in this music 
there must be a quality not of the outer earth. The sound is like 
a greater speaking voice. It says what the voice cannot say. 
There is no overture or interlude between the two partsof the 
performance. The music only accompanies the action. A con- 
siderable part of the orchestration must depend on new means. 
The instrumentation must be capable of drowning five hundred 
voices. It must be able to produce a volume of sound beyond the 
capacity of the human ear, as in the case of certain loud noises 
when our ear fills up as though with water. The instruments 
must likewise be capable of the most delicate shadings. Experi- 
ments have been started on new types of sound producing 
instruments which, regardless of their size, can be controlled by 
individuals. As an example—one of the most interesting is a 
shaft with two rows of flexible steel bands maintained apart at 
regular intervals, and resembling a pair of ladders. A steel ball, 
of the same dimension as the space between the bands, dropped 
from above falls between the bands. In its descent it isin continual 
contact with at least one band so that the sound is sustained and 


[ 16 ] 


vibrant. With the shaft fifty feet high and many balls following 
one another in quick succession the sound is intensified. Eight 
different sizes of these instruments form the octave, the balls 
varying from six to twenty-four inches in diameter. When the 
ball reaches the bottom it is caught in a net and automatically 
recarried to the top where it may be released again. A second use 
of the balls is a series of shelves in steps, the tilt of which may 
be varied. The balls drop from one step to another. A variance 
of the distance between the steps or their angle changes the 
thythm. These would also be used in a series of eight. 
Drawings and models of costumes have also been started. I 
define costume as scenery worn by people. Whether the apparel 
resembles clothes or something else, or nothing at all makes no 
difference, as long as it is worn or carried by a person. The costum- 
ing of this production is of great variety. Many of the garments 
would be ordinary enough in the making while others are more 
experimental. The earth forms, totaling eighty-six figures, sug- 
gest costumes least of all. The long pointed garment is made of 
a wite frame, covered with canvas. It is supported at the waist 
and shoulders by belts and balanced so as not to be either heavy 
ot awkward to the wearer, who is always on his knees. Our 
models of these balance themselves. The longest form reaches 
out over the pit thirty feet. It is thirty-three feet long and only 
reaches a height of two feet three inches. The shape and balanc- 
ing requirements of the forms on one side of the pit are the same 
as on the other, but every form on each side is slightly different 
from evety other oneon thesame side. The shortest one is nineteen 
feet long but reaches a height of twelve feet. Its position is at 


[17 ] 


the center of the ledge. The longest form's position is at the op- 
posite side of the pit. Their points meet over the center of the 
pit. (Clearly shown in plate eight.) 

The soldiers of the city of Dis (Plates thirteen and thirty- 
nine) are dressed in body masks, that is a costume composed of 
masks for different parts of the body. These are modeled in papet 
and supported on a wire frame. Another distinct costume form 
is a great serpent made up of eight men ctawling one after 
another, and covered with a single slimy looking garment. And 
there ate giant objects who sprout telescopic wings like bats, 
(Plates fifteen and sixteen) that open and close at will. The 
wings are worn on either side of the kneeling actor, concealing 
his body. His head is concealed with a mask. In the Purgatory 
the shape of the towers is altered by actors carrying forms of 
different shapes, which conceal them, and are suggestive in their 
combination of symbols such as the two giant angels (Plates 
twenty and twenty-two). In the Paradise episode, the actors are 
covered completely by gauze continuing to eliminate the human 
element as much as possible. (Plates twenty-three and twenty- 
four). 

Masks are not confined to the chorus. None of the three 
ptincipals ever appear without one. The scale of the stage and 
auditorium is so large that the expression of the face would be 
lost, except through opera glasses, and no one should be required 
to use binoculars in the theatre. This is only one reason for the 
use of masks, the conveying of an expression which would 
otherwise be lost to the majority of the audience. Another 
reason is that the expression can be intensified to a point attain- 


[ 18 ] 


able by the imagination but not by the human face. A third 
teason is that the mask can be so constructed as to magnify the 
voice, as a megaphone does. Following some pencil sketches, 
the masks were begun and developed in a similar fashion to the 
other work. Small models, about an inch and a half long, were 
modeled in clay. The second stage in the making of the masks 
was remodeling them, half full size. It is these models which 
have been photographed for this book. (Plates twenty-five to 
thirty-eight.) The masks are designed to be used in sets. Dante 
has a set of eight. Virgil has four. Beatrice requires only two. 
The range of expression in the Dante set progresses from the 
passive state of the first to a state of emotional terror experienced 
by no living mortal. The masks when not in use will be worn on 
the actor's belt and concealed by his robe. It is never necessary for 
him to carry more than three with him at one time. The process 
of removing one and adjusting another can be done so as not to 
interrupt the mood. 

The acting company totals five hundred and twenty-three. 
The three are the principals, Dante, Virgil and Beatrice. The 
twenty are secondaries who play individual rdles and each of 
whom is in charge of a group of twenty-five supernumeraries. 
All acting is schemed broadly and stylized sufficiently to fit the 
- general plan. The actor’s arms and legs are as important as his 
voice in this performance. He must not only be able to move 
individually but in accord with the many others. The acting 
ensemble must move with the rhythm of a great orchestra. 

- Another important element in the project is illumination. 
The lighting varies every moment of the performance. The 


[29 | 


mechanism required is considerable, but no more so than many 
other productions have required. Artificial smoke is utilized to 
accentuate the rays and increase the feeling of space. In the 
Inferno all of the lighting comes from within the pit. As the 
Inferno proceeds the area covered by the light increases until 
the entire stage and auditorium are included in the whirling 
nebulous glow. The Purgatory episode is illuminated from the 
rear, in silhouette. As the performance goes on the source of 
‘Humination rises until finally it is overhead. The light comes 
from all sides, flattening all relief and eliminating shadows to 
give a feeling as thin, filmy, and as much that of unending space 
as possible. When actually realized it should be like looking into 
millions of stars on a clear night only it should not be night. 
At the very end, when the light reaches an apparent maximum 
intensity, Dante exclaims: O abundant Grace, by the Eternal 
Light, let my sight be consumed! Simultaneously the light is 
directed into the audience, dazzling them for the instant. Then 
total darkness. Gradually asoft glow returns over the auditorium. 
The place where the stage was is a dark void. This is the end. 
The whole performance is controlled from a position at the 
center of the stage just inside the wall. Here in an obscure booth 
are the stage manager, the chief electrician, and the chief 
musician. Each is in telephonic connection with his assistants. 
They are in a position to catch any ertor prior to the audience and - 
have the means to correct it before the unknowing eye is aware. 
This project is altogether the result of an idea. The idea is 
to express emotional beauty through the unification of certain 
elements. Each element must translate into its own medium the 


[ 20 ] 


quality of each varying moment and produce this sensation 
simultaneously with the other elements. The general structure 
of all these elements is broad and powerful, but the shadings are 
many and delicate. Not only the feeling but the form, as it is in 
the Inferno, grows into a different thing by the time it reaches 
Paradise. There is a gradual crescendo as the composition pro- 
gresses. The end must leave no taint of fantasy in the minds of 
the audience. With the cold, rigid dignity of the last few mo- 
ments must come an appalling sense of vastness beyond the earth 
and indefinable. 


NorMAN-BEL GEDDES. 


June 14, 1923 


[ 21 ] 





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O MANY well meaning critics have 
S told me that my drawings and even 
my model were interesting but that the 
production could not be realized in a 
practical sense,that I have proceeded with 
the cooperation of my pupils and Mr 
Francis Bruguiére to illustrate,in the most 
graphic way I know, that it can be real- 
ized. We modeled five hundred miniature 
figures in clay, to the same scale as the 
stage, and arranged them on the stage 
model to fit the various compositions. 
The ensemble was illuminated, as nearly 
as the scale would permit, as the full size 
stage will be. Mr. Bruguiére photo- 
graphed the result. The drawings and the 
photographs although not identical, are 
in complete agreement. In some ways the 
drawings are more satisfactory but the 
photographs are in other respects more 
interesting and certainly more convinc- - 
ing from a practical standpoint. The 
photography is direct in every instance. 
Ordinary lenses were used and the plates 
wete not retouched. 


N.-B. G. 


June, 1923 








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PLatE ONE 


A view of the model of the stage for a theatrical presenta- 
tion of The Divine Comedy. In the center is the pit. The loca- 
tion of the four towers, with the steps reaching the various 
levels in them, is clearly shown, as well as the wall joining 
the lower towers. The photograph is from directly over- 
head. 


“O Muses, O lofty Genius, assist me!” 





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PLateE Two 


Awnoruer view of the stage from overhead giving a more 
comprehensive idea of the relief. The ledge around the pit 
builds up through successive steps, to an elevation on the 
farther side of twice the height of the near side. 


‘‘O honor and light of poets, avail me and the great 
love which has made me search thy volume!”’ 








PLATE THREE 


Tue srace partially illuminated, illustrating the possi- 
bility of losing its outer edges in darkness. 


‘One sole willis in us both.’ 








PLaTE Four 


Tue consciousness of the pit is at certain times undesirable. 
This lighting illustrates an instance of obliterating it. 


‘A thousand steps and more we onward 
went in contemplation without a word.” 








PiatTe Five 


Aursoucu the stage is based upon a circle, there is not a 
curved line in it. The sweep of the steps is all done in angles. 
A more variable quality is gained by the many planes. 


“So was the bank that winds about the pit set with towers.” 


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Puate Six 


Wauen the performance starts the audience is in ignorance 
of the stage structure, which is in total darkness in direct 
contrast to the brilliantly illuminated auditorium. There 
is a penetrating sound as sharp as a flash of lightning. A 
glow of bluegreen light reveals Dante standing on the wall. 
High above him a nebulous glow gradually takes on a form 
suggesting the figure of a woman, white and glistening. A 
vision of Beatrice. 


“On high the light, that leadeth me aright.” 








PLATE SEVEN 


Aw arrestinc sound like heavy breathing. Two slits 
of fire, like blinking eyes, glow round and sway from side 
to side. Dante, awed, backs away. A second pair of sway- 
ing eyes comes out of the darkness. As they creep methodi- 
cally nearer, Dante becomes terror stricken and runs almost 
into a third pair of eyes which appear directly in his path. 
Dante swoons. Virgil comes to him and quiets his fears 
whereupon the eyes of the beasts divide, subdivide, spread- 
ing outward, rise and ultimately become the stars overhead. 


““T deem it for thy best that thou follow me.” 








Pxuate EIGHT 


Tuere is a sound as of massive objects grinding against 
one another as though the earth were cracking to its core. 
Dante, dimly visible in the background with Virgil, stands 
immovable as the glow of inner fire seeps through crevices. 
The masses divide. The earth forms rise spasmodically. 


‘*Now we descend into the blind world.’’ 








Pirate NINE 


Tue crevices widen. The light becomes more intense. Dante 
stands as though petrified. The earth forms rise in groups 
and divide into slender forms, like fingers on a hand, receding 
in all directions from the common center. A faint murmur 
as though coming from the bowels of the earth is percep- 
tible, a vibration rather than a sound. 


The way into the woeful place.’’ 








Piate TEN 


As tHouc wilting from the great heat the forms droop, 
crumble and collapse into the chasm and the outer darkness. 
The multitudinous hum of voices develops gradually into 
an insistent but rhythmic repetition terminating in a word. 
The word is repeated. Another is introduced. Then both to- 
gether. Then a third word. Then the three together. Finally 
the complete sentence: 


‘Leave every hope, ye who enter!’ 








Pirate ELEVEN 


At aout the two figures the ground seems mobile, rising 
slowly and falling like the swell of the sea and with the 
same rhythm in sound. Dante becomes sickened when he 
realizes that what he took to be the vibration of the ground 
surface is in reality the convulsions of decayed humanity. 
Unable to use their hands or limbs, they move and look like 
worms. Their color is so neutral that individuals are indis- 
tinguishable. When Dante asks if they are dead, Virgil 
answets: 


‘In their blind life there is no hope of death.”’ 








PLATE TWELVE 


Tur tower part of the towers becomes visible. They rise 
out of the slope like giants, which Dante at first takes them 
to be. The yellowgreen light has crept up the slope bringing 
into relief a procession of weeping figures. Moving along in 
untold numbers, all in one direction, they finally cover the 
entire slope. Submerged i in their midst Dante saddens with 
the realization that they are pairs of lovers. 


“Love, which absolves no loved one from loving, seized 
us so strongly, that it does not even now abandon us.”’ 








PLATE THIRTEEN 


Tue pin of a shuffling multitude becomes a reality that 
forms a wall, challenging this living one a passage to their 
lower depths. As Virgil advances to debate with them, 
they too advance. When he stops, they stop. If he steps 
back, they do likewise. To enter the gate beyond seems im- 
possible. The vision of Beatrice reappears and from it a bolt 
of light and in the light a messenger from Heaven. With 
the sound of a tumult the heavy footed ones scatter as be- 
fore a hurricane. 


“The City named Dis, with its heavy citizens.”’ 








PLATE FouRTEEN 


From out of the shadow come silent, sobbing bodies, their 
heads on their breasts, stumbling, tumbling in their blind- 
ness, to the edge of the shadow. The stage is proportioned 
so that each of its elements may be illuminated or not as the 
varying action requires. The same consideration has been 
given to costumes and here is an example of how the figures 
may be lit to vary from apparent white to the black of those 
in silhouette. 


“There is a place in Hell all of stone, the color of iron.”’ 





PLATE FIFTEEN 


Dante is unnerved when a winged figure jumps over his 
head from the tower behind him. In its claws 1s a limp body 
which it hurls toward the audience, into the darkness, and 
then jumps after it. Others follow, pouring from the top of 
the tower, down its sides, like weird shadows, that vanish 
in shadows. 


“Here the foul Harpies make their nest.” 


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PLATE SIXTEEN 


As tne Inferno episode progresses the movement becomes 
more confused, and the beating of the vermilion light ac- 
centuates the identical rhythm in the sound. The winged 
Harpies scourge the crowd from behind. They fall and wail 
monotonously but are driven on over the ledge into the 
black ditch where they disappear in a thick swirling fluid 
of deep red. 


“Fix thy eyes below, on the river of blood.”’ 








PLATE SEVENTEEN 


Tue stops is filled with figures turning round and round. 
The individuals gradually form into groups. Each figure in 
the group as well as the group itself turns in an orbit, passing 
thru one another in the course of their circling. Eventually 
all these circular movements synchronise into one mighty 
rhythm. They move around the pit, slowly on the outside, 
faster toward the center. Their path turns like a corkscrew 
in streaks of intense hot color as they are sucked into the 
maelstrom. 


“Without a way or outlet from the fire.” 


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PLATE EIGHTEEN 


Tue wxore movement culminates when an iridescent 
glow spreads over the swirling mass like a great nebula and 
gradually brightens. Over all, small sparks of fire rain slow- 
ly down. The light begins in the heart of the pit, spreading 
over the stage and taking in the audience. Round and round 
it moves, the rhythm increasing until it reaches a point when 
it seems that we are swirling and that everything else is 
standing still. The nebula dissolves in darkness. The inter- 
mission follows. 


“Thou knowest that the place is round, and though 
thou art come far, not yet hast thou turned through 
the whole circle.’ 





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Pirate NINETEEN 


Danve emerges from Inferno to Purgatory. As in the In- 
ferno episodes all of the lighting came from the pit, so in 
the Purgatory it comes from behind, and in Paradise from 
overhead. 


“A soft color as of sapphire in the sky renewed de- 
light as I came forth from the dead air.” 





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PLatTeE TWENTY 


Tue uicut has risen and divided itself more. The towers 
have taken on new forms, as of two winged guardians of 
Purgatory. Each part of these forms is the costume of an 
actor. There are twenty-five units to each tower, standing 
on varying levels. The wings can open and spread like a 
great bird. 


“T saw poised in the sky wings, wide spread.” 


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; PLatTE TWENTY-ONE 


Tue ascent of Dante in the sphere of eternal light. 


‘Love, who didst lift me with thy light.” 








PLate TWENTY-TWO 


Tue uicHt begins to come from overhead giving a silver 
iridescent quality to a stage that, when lit from below, was 
dark and heavy. 


“O! Thou sweet light upon this novel journey do thou lead me!’ 








PLATE TWENTY-THREE 


Eacn suarr of light is a different color. The complete jux- 
taposition of all colors produces an intense but soft tone of 
the purest white. And here Dante meets Beatrice. 


“T saw the lady across the way although the veal 
which descended from her head did not allow her to 
appear distinctly.” 


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PLATE TWENTY-FOUR 


As tHe final movement approaches the light loses its 
source, coming from no point in particular but from every- 
where at once. As Dante speaks his final words every lamp 
is turned simultaneously into the audience. 


“O abundant Grace, by the Eternal Light, let my 
sight be consumed.” 


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FIRST DANTE MASK 





SECOND DANTE MASK 


PLATES TWENTY-FIVE AND TWENTY-SIX 


Danre uses eight masks. They develop in a sequence of 
emotion from a passive expression to a state of emotion 
beyond human experience. It must be remembered that 
the purpose of these masks is to convey expression at a 
distance of over a hundred feet. From the ensemble photo- 
graphs it is evident that the form of the head itself is hardly 
seen, much less the features. The most intense exaggera- 
tion is therefore necessary. Virgil uses four and Beatrice 
two masks. 








THIRD DANTE MASK FOURTH DANTE MASK 


PLatTEs TWENTY-SEVEN AND [TWENTY-EIGHT 


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FIFTH DANTE MASK SIXTH DANTE MASK 


Piatres TWENTY-NINE AND THIRTY 








SEVENTH DANTE MASK EIGHTH DANTE MASK 


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THIRD VIRGIL MASK FOURTH VIRGIL MASK 


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